I gave him everything. I opened myself up to him as I've done with no other boy. I gave him myself freely. I gave him it all. I told him my past, how I felt, what I wanted to do in the future. I told it all. I gave him my heart. No, I gave him my soul. I gave him everything but a few small things I kept for myself: a piece of my heart & a part of my soul no bigger than a newborn child's thumb nail. A few memories that I didn't think he needed right then.

I know I would've given him even those things if he asked for them.

I was his first girlfriend, his first kiss. I wanted to share every little thing with him, no matter how small or stupid the thing.

He became my best-friend.

He is the first person I think of when I wake up and the last one I think of when I go to sleep. I dream about him. When I listen to songs I hear lyrics that would've fit our courtship.

And I need him so bad.

I need to talk to him, just hear his voice even if he was yelling at me, which he would never do. I can't eat. I can't even escape in sleep. He's always in my head, in the back of my mind.

And I don't know why.

I don't know why he doesn't want me anymore. I keep trying to fool myself into thinking that this will be fine, that if this is how he wants it then it shouldn't matter.

He just doesn't want me and its hurting me so bad. My heart aches and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I feel like I'm in the middle of an ocean and my boat just left me to drown. Left me, a person who can't swim.

I'm hurt. I'm sad. My heart aches and my soul bleeds.

I think I'd rather be hit by a car. Maybe, even, I wish I'd never met him. No, that's a lie. I'd probably have died these past months without him.

When he found me, I had on my facade. I was sad, broken by my grandma's death.
When he left me, I was done.
Now I hold myself together on the surface, but underneath I'm broken. I pretend. Sometimes I let that show. I try not to; I don't want other people to suffer for me. I don't want their pity. That's not how work. I don't work well with suffering people, and now I don't work well with myself.

I won't sob to try and get the pain out: I'm afraid that I'll never stop.

And I want to call him so bad, to tell him what this has done to me. But I don't think that he wants to talk to me, at least, not now. I think that would hurt him too much, and I couldn't bear that. I couldn't bear the fact that I would be hurting him.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt him. Maybe it would make him stronger.

But I can't stop thinking about him. His voice plays inside my heart. I feel the ghost of his hand on my wrist, in my hand. I feel the warmth of his arms around me and his face buried in my neck, in my hair.
I feel the press of his lips against the crown of my head.
I can feel his presence in my house. I feel like he's with me and when I turn around he's not. I just wanna cry till my body drys out and until all the words he ever said bombard me with their once true meanings.
I want our halves of the heart to mean something to him.

What am I now; the lamb or the wolf? Am I Bella and Edward? Or am I Jacob, being left, time and again, by Bella? Am I having everything I love dash me against the rocks that are all my fears, all the things I don't want to be known as and become?

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

For 10 months, longer because we couldn't remember the day he asked me out, he was my rock. He was my reason. I didn't mutilate myself because I knew that would hurt him.
I want to cut, if only so that I could cry tears of blood and not salt tears.


"You can't leave me."
"Where else am I going to go?"
B&E


He said he wouldn't leave me unless he believed it was truly the right thing to do.
But what if it wasn't the right thing to do?
What if it was the absolute wrong thing?

What if what he believed was right wasn't what was right? What would happen then?

I won't be the same for a while; I know that. I'll be quieter, more distant. I might even cry during a lunch.
I don't want you guys to hurt for me.
That's not what I ever want.